#FridayFlash: A Latte, a Biscotti, and a Miracle

She flicked the screen of her phone, hundreds of unread tweets scrolling up and down, up and down, up and down. The usual flood of jokes and quotes, conversation and self-promotion from the thousands of people she followed... it was like watching another person's life flash before her eyes. She sipped at her latte, unseeing. The biscotti was on the plate, untasted. Not uneaten, since she looked down at one point to see that half of it was gone.

It was eaten, but untasted.

Just like she was seen, but unrecognized.

Heard, but disregarded.

Touched, but alone.

She set down the latte and the phone. Carefully, not drawing any attention to herself, she pretended to rub her eyes. Her fingertips pressed into her eyelids, digging hard into the eyeballs underneath. An explosion of incandescent green and purple swirls filled her darkened vision. The pressure was luminous, hot against the back of her neck, as the light of her own making drowned out everything else around her.

When the tears came to the edges of her eyes, she stopped.

Not here. She didn't dare allow herself to weep, not here. She had to keep it together, keep focus and do what she had to do. Blinded by her own inner lights, she lowered her hands and set them on the table. Fingers splayed, she reached out to where she remembered the paper napkin was, next to the plate with the half-biscotti. She brought it up and dabbed at her eyes.

Quickly, quickly... dab, don't linger. Dab and away, and don't cry.

Don't cry.

As if anyone would care if she did.

The competing crowds outside were evenly matched. They had competing bullhorns, competing chants, competing signs. The newscrews, invited by both sides, blocked traffic with their vans. The noise made the big windowpane shake, would have made conversation difficult at her table, if she had had anyone to talk to.

And if she had someone to talk to, what would she have said? That it was too bad? That it was just her luck? That she should have checked her Magic 8-Ball before scheduling her abortion for today? That it was a sign for her to turn away from this decision? That it was a challenge for her to overcome?

But there was no one to talk to, was there? She was alone.

Alone, alone, all alone, alone.

All alone in a crowd. All alone with or without useless fucking Brian eating all her food and drinking all her beer, a constant presence in her apartment, in her life and in her bed. All alone with this miracle of her own making. All alone with this intestinal parasite sucking away her energy and lifeblood. All alone on the path, stumbling forward blindfolded.

She looked, and the biscotti was gone.

Eaten, but untasted. Used up and gone without a trace. The sole purpose of its little biscotti life was to bring a moment's overpriced pleasure to the tongue of some caffeine hound, and she'd ruined everything. All the little biscotti wanted was to fulfill its destiny, that one simple little thing... and she had denied it, made a mess of everything.

Don't cry. Don't cry. For fuck's sake, don't cry.

She pressed the crumpled napkin to her eyes, pressing the crumb-stained, cinnamon-scented paper in hard, bringing back the swirling green lights behind her lids.

Just get up and go. Head down, move fast, get up and go. Ignore them, they can't stop you, just go. Make a decision for once in your miserable life. Just get up and go over there. Go through the doors.

When she lowered the napkin, she was blinded by the lights. As they cleared, she realized that someone had taken the seat opposite.

Brian.

He looked... he looked like he was going to die. She had never seen his face so drawn, like he was made of slowly melting wax.

"There was a message on the machine. They were calling everyone who had... procedures scheduled for today, warning them about the protests." His voice was louder than she'd ever heard it as he tried to rise abover the chanting, shouting noise. He reached out, hesitated, then completed the gesture to take her icy cold hand in his feverishly warm one. "I came down as soon as I understood. When I saw the crowds, I didn't know what to think. It's only luck I saw you in the window."

"Luck. Yes, luck. It was certainly luck."

"Honey... why didn't you tell me? About the baby? About... about this?" He waved his free hand at the protesters, the counter-protesters, the cameras and the lights. "Is this why things have been so weird between us lately? Honey, this is a miracle. Don't you see? This is everything about you, about me, about us together. This -" he waved at her abdomen "- this is our whole future together. Don't you see that?"

Like she was pulling a boot out of mud, she withdrew her hand.

"Yes, I know." She stood and walked toward the door and toward her new life, leaving behind the latte, the empty plate strewn with crumbs, and Brian.

She had to make her own decision in the end… but I'm not sure I sympathize with her. Not because she's getting an abortion, but the way she's shut Brian out of everything. She thinks he's useless, but we don't see why. A very emotional piece, well-done and topical.

Wow this was so emotionally powerful, You took us on a journey through her mind, her pain, her sense of aloneness and yet you surprised us with the ending. She didn't want the baby, she just wanted Brian to acknowledge her and not feel so used I think.

I don't know how I feel about her and her decision to throw it all away.

I don't usually think too much about titles, but felt like there was depth in yours. The latte is drank, but unseen. The biscotti is eaten, but untasted. So what then of the "miracle?" It is felt, but unloved?

You mentioned her walking down a path a blindfolded, but I think at the end her blindfold had been removed. As the others said we don't really get a sense of Brian, but perhaps that is the point? She is feeling all alone and wholly invisible, and Brian is nowhere to be seen. So I think Brian's sin in their relationship is not one of commission so much as omission. He's never there, so feels unseen.

It is emotional, has a nebulous ending, and deals with a controversial subject. This is what #FridayFlash is all about.

I could completely sympathise with her right up until the end. It seems like she gets what she wants, but then realises she doesn't want it after all...and doesn't consider what Brian wants. Does his opinion or his wishes not matter? Very thought provoking stuff, sir.

Very strongly written. I loved the image of the boot being pulled out of the mud.

If she can't even register when she's biting into the biscotti (as trivial as that might seem on some levels), then things are really far gone and she's making the right decision. As for Brian... I don't know, it's amazing how nice people can seem when they're about to lose a situation where they get their way with everything.

For me, the ending was the best part of this (as it should be). It's great that it's triggered so many different responses, isn't it? My interpretation was that she needed something to make her realise that she didn't want a future with Brian and the miracle provided that - because a baby with him would tie her to him for life and that wasn't what she wanted. A brave thing to write about. I have to say I'm surprised that this story was written by a man - surprised and overjoyed! In a time when women's rights are under threat (especially in America - from the Republicans) it's a relief to know there are men who understand and support a woman's right to choose. There's hope for us, yet.

I'm pleased it resonated with you, Louise. No, a life with Brian by her side is not what she wants, not in any way. Severing that tie and moving on will take extreme measures.

I'm curious, though... was it really such a surprise that I could write this? True, I've never been pregnant as a result of a loveless, dead-end relationship, but then I've never been kidnapped by aliens or had to shoot up a rival gang leader, either. Imagination and empathy is what we're all about, no?

Oh the amount of times I've had a conversation like this in my own head - "Just get up and go. Head down, move fast, get up and go. Ignore them, they can't stop you, just go. Make a decision for once in your miserable life. Just get up and go over there. Go through the doors."

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This is my writing blog, which means you'll find fiction (short, medium and long), thoughts, ideas, experiments and other grammatically correct prose. The pages at the top will take you to my publications and samples of my writing. I'd love to know what you think, so feel free to leave comments on anything you read.

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